Why So Terrified?
by TravelingThroughTime
Summary: When Jane Grayson becomes the new anchor for Gotham News, she soon finds herself caught in the twisted web of a crazed clown's obsession.Will she escape this hell?Will she find protection from a caped crusador who's still dealing with his own tragedy?
1. Chapter I: When You Feel Like Crying

**Summary: **When Jane Grayson becomes the new anchor for Gotham News, she shortly becomes the sick obsession of a twisted clown. Will she be driven to insanity trying to escape this madman? Or will a certain caped crusader help her cope while still recovering from his own tragedy? Main characters are Bruce/Batman, Joker, Alfred, Jim Gordon, Lucius Fox and introducing my original character Jane Grayson.

**Rating: **Between T and M for gore, language, drug use, violence, suicide, murders and all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer: **This is where I state that I own nothing Batman. I'm just a fan having fun.

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**Chapter I: When You Feel Like Crying**

Alfred found himself standing outside of the large door. The silver tray of coffee and donuts were getting heavy, taking into consideration that there was indeed a heavy coffee pot, a sugar jar and two dozen gourmet sweets piled onto a large round plate in the alluring shape of a pyramid.

"Master Bruce? Master Bruce?"

No answer came.

"Master Bruce?"

Still, there was no response. Alfred was growing impatient.

"Master Bruce, I'm standing outside the door with the breakfast you asked for, and my arms are growing tired. My hands are full and there's no way I-"

The door opened.

There he stood, his eyes drenched in exhaustion and accented with dark circles that said: _I haven't slept_. Not to mention his hair was unkempt, and his bed rode looked to be thrown over him in a haste.

He slowly took the tray of 'unhealthy' donuts and coffee and Alfred followed him into the quiet room.

He watched in silence as Bruce laid the tray onto a coffee table, seated himself back into his chair and turned the television back up.

"Master Bruce…you look terrible."

"You noticed Alfred, how thoughtful." he said carelessly.

"I meant it as a concerned friend. I know you miss her…I know you're hurt; but do you really think Rachel would enjoy you torturing yourself like this? Look at yourself."

"Alfred, I don't want to hear Rachel's name right now."

"I know it's difficult to talk about someone you cared about when they've been lost to you but…"

"Just…let me have a little more time, Alfred. Please. I know you're concerned…but I'll be fine."

"I just don't want you to fall into a dark hole and never come out." Alfred stated.

"I've fell in before. I can handle it."

"Can you?"

Bruce gave Alfred a sharp, yet emotionless glare.

"I'm the one who loved her. I'm the one who lost her."

"She was loved by more people than just you, Bruce. Remember that." With that, Alfred took his leave.

The depression within him was undeniable. Why ignore it whenever it was there, settled into his soul in such a hard, cold grip.

It seemed like everyone he loved, everyone who meant something to him ended up dead. He could easily blame himself, mope around, maybe even wash it down with hard shots of liquor. But he couldn't. Bruce Wayne had a title, a dedication. Though, the way he saw it, he'd be flying through Gotham City with a heavily broken heart either way you looked at it, both as a rich man and a caped hero.

Rachel Dawes was more than just another woman. She was intelligent, undeniably special and everyone who knew her well couldn't deny their love and admiration for her. She was a special kind of a person, a one in a million. Bruce intended to let everyone know just how special she was at the funeral. He only hoped he'd be strong enough to speak over her.

He fingered absentmindedly for the volume buttons of the remote, turning the sound up for the sake and hope of a good program.

"_News…I've heard enough of it this week." _He nearly changed the channel, but suddenly an interesting story drew his attention in.

"_Today, one of our top anchor women, Michelle Wells was killed in a car accident. The accident took place at around twelve noon when the anchor vehicle was crossing the street to the Court House on Balena Avenue. A cement truck driver lost control of the wheel and hit the vehicle head on where Michelle was sitting in the passenger seat. This is a very tragic…"_

As the male reporter went on, Bruce switched the television off, no longer wanting to hear the words 'Death' or 'killed'. At least not now. He'd have to face it all again sooner or later of course, but right now he just wanted some peace. Could he find that peace somewhere in his racing thoughts? He didn't know…

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Three Days Later On Another Side Of Gotham a.k.a. Hell City…

The apartment laid silent. There was the faint sound of a ticking wall clock, the silent running of a television mounted over a simple fireplace. The curtains over the glass sliding doors that led to the small balcony were pulled back, revealing the bright light of a gray day.

Then, silence was broken by the ringing of a phone and a woman burst out of the bathroom, her hair tied up in a towel and her body covered in a housecoat.

She rushed to the phone, picking it up from the kitchen counter and placing it to her left ear.

"Hello?"

The man on the other end had news for her.

"Jane?"

"Mr. Lorie, hi."

"How are you, Jane?"

"Fine sir, and you?"

"Not so good. I'm looking for a new anchor woman…sadly."

"Yes. What happened to Michelle was…horrific." she commented.

"Indeed."

There was some brief silence, and then the man on the other end spoke again.

"I know you've been working hard to make your way to becoming an anchor for the Gotham News."

"Oh, well yes."

After all that had happened with Michelle, she felt a little reluctance. For some reason she felt guilt for even thinking of replacing someone afte they had been killed in such a way. She knew where this conversation was headed.

"I know how you feel, Jane. But we've got to find someone to take Michelle's place, God rest her soul. And if you don't take the job, someone else will."

"Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Don't be foolish. You either want to be an anchor or you don't."

"I do. It's just…I feel like I'm taking Michelle's career out from under her. She loved what she did, and she was one of the best."

"Jane, I'm sure that if Michelle could communicate with us from the 'other world', she'd likely tell you that she'd rather Jane Grayson get the job over anyone else."

"I guess so."

"Come on Jane, don't disappoint me. Or more than likely, yourself."

Jane swallowed.

"I'll take it." she told him.

"Good girl. Meet me in my office tomorrow morning. We need to go over a few things."

"I will."

The line was hung.

_Well Jane, you've got it. You've really got it. You've wanted it since childhood…so why do you feel so unhappy about it?_

_I've always dreamed about how I'd react…and this wasn't it. I was supposed to jump up and down with glory, call mom, my friends, celebrate. Maybe it's because someone had to die and leave behind their kids before I could get this damn job._

She lifted herself of her thoughts, or so she tried, making way for the coffee kettle and hoping to find some joy in a hot cup of caffeine. She certainly didn't find it in the new job raise like she had hoped.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Author's Notes:_ I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter. It's my first Batman story. I'll try to frequent the updates, but they may come slow as I am working on other stories too. I would also like to express that as an experienced author, this will not be another one of the countless Mary-Sue a.k.a. Joker/OC or even the annoying Bruce/OC stories where he settles down and tells her his identity. And I would also like to express that no, the Joker will NOT be falling head over hills for another random OC like you see so much of. This story is something very different that I've been planning out for a good while now. It is a suspense thriller and a crime story so it will be violent at some points. I just wanted to clear this up so that a lot of people won't be too quick to toss it aside thinking it's another one of those countless stories you see in this fandom. I mean no offense to any authors who have written OC paired stories. I think a lot of these stories are good, but I just want the people who are tired of these sorts to know this isn't one of them._


	2. Chapter II: I Remember Rachel

_Gotham City…one of the largest, most metropolitan cities in the great world yonder. For some, it is an opportunity, a chance to be somebody, to make a difference in your life, the life of your family. For others, it's an empty hole of worthless pity, one big scavenger hunt where only the strong survive. To me, it's a combination of heaven and hell, a coliseum where the strongest warriors are thrown in to battle the hungry lions that thirst for your blood. It takes a special kind of hero to wield a sword, a hero who has courage and faith in the ones who believe in him most. For Gotham, there is only one true hero who holds such a title. He steps out only in the night, dwelling in the shadows of our city, waiting, watching, listening. All the rapist, robbers, sick, twisted criminals…they may escape with a lot, but in the end they'll have to face him. _

_~No One Knows Me_

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**Chapter II: I Remember Rachel**

He stepped quietly through the corridor and into the bedchamber.

He slipped into the dark suit, and finished straightening the black silk tie about his collar. Then it came to him once more, a memory not so easily forgotten. He could still recall every last word she had spoke to him, it was still piercing him like a knife in the shadows of night. He could hear it out in his mind, hear her voice saying his name as she spoke to him through his final memory of her.

Bruce suddenly tossed the memory aside, baring the weight of his arms onto the dresser before him, lowering his head and fighting the pain within.

A knock came to the door, lifting him from dark thoughts of a love lost forever.

"Master Bruce? Are you ready?"

"Yes, Alfred. I'll be out in a moment."

The drive was silent between them. Neither one of them finding words to say between the other, nor the desire.

Then, sudden words rolled from Bruce's tongue. He was not speaking to Alfred, nor anyone in particular. They just came out like he felt he had to say them.

"I dreamed about her last night." he uttered. "She was standing at the edge of my bed looking at me. I wanted to reach out and grab her but I couldn't move. She kept telling me to have faith in people over and over again. She looked pale."

Alfred didn't comment. He was at a loss of words in this moment. He kept his eyes on the road, his hands on the steering wheel but his thoughts on Bruce's dream.

The drive brought visions to Bruce Wayne of a past come and gone. The more he thought of her, the more he wanted to reach out and embrace her, never let her go again.

The visions of a world lost to him came in bouts of faded gray, almost blurry in some parts. But as he dwelled within these memories, they slowly came more clear, clear like the creek bed on that one Sunday afternoon when she approached him from behind.

"_What are you doing?" her smile was like the sight of angel's wings. There was something in her that brought a sense of magic to their games and their childhood._

"_Catching frogs. Do you want to join me?"_

"_Frogs?" a small giggle followed her expression. _

_She knelt beside him, both of them exchanging smiles as they poked small twigs between stones and sand. The creek expelled water like a melody and two yellow butterflies fluttered over the small bursts of wildflowers that brought color to the green earth around them._

_Yellow butterflies_…somehow Bruce remembered them.

"Master Bruce, we're here."

Bruce sighed, pulling himself out of the back seat of the limo with apprehensive legs. He dreaded this; what it meant to be here. It was a funeral, a memorial for her. It was another thing to remind him that she was nothing more than a memory.

Beautiful. Her smile was captivating and she made him think of all things beautiful. Now, here he was sitting between countless people; listening to a church organ play a tune as sad as death itself, looking at the countless photographs of the beloved Rachel Dawes with burning candles and elegant florals placed behind them.

Why?

That was the question, wasn't it?

Why?

Why did it have to be her?

That's what Bruce kept asking himself. But soon, he be forced to push the grief aside. He would be forced to move on and live, to continue his walk through this unpredictable world, to ride the greatest and the smallest waves thrown his way as best as he knew how. He had to be strong; not just for himself, but for all lives that laid in his hands. The lives he had promised to protect as best he could.

A double life? Indeed it was, and Rachel was one of the few people that knew. She held his most sacred secret, his trust, his friendship and his heart. He wanted to give it away to her, make her his one true love. She was the first and only woman who meant more to him than any model or glamour girl next door could ever mean. To him, Rachel represented true companionship and real meaning. She was a real person with real feelings who cared about people and important issues.

There was that one memorable childhood day when Rachel discovered a fallen baby bird.

"_Rachel…Rachel…" he whispered, struggling to capture her ears._

_She turned and shushed him, glancing about the halls of the corridor to see that it laid empty despite the peeping boy who watched her from the half-open door of his room._

"_What are you doing with that box?" he asked for a third time._

_She cantered across the hall, shoving him aside and closing the door of his chamber behind them._

"_Don't tell anyone." she told him. "I found it in the garden."_

"_What is it?"_

"_A baby bird, silly." she smiled. "But I think it's hurt. It fell from a tree."_

"_Shouldn't we return it?" he questioned._

"_We can't now. I'm afraid the mother won't have it now that I've touched it."_

"_You should've left it alone." he told her._

"_And let a cat find it?"_

"_Oh."_

_The children sat opposite side of the box, studying the fragile creature within as it laid in the thick warm straw that Rachel had offered as a bed._

"_What kind of bird do you think it is?" he asked her._

"_I don't know. Maybe it's a dove."_

"_It looks awfully frightened."_

"_Bruce,"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Will you help me care for it?"_

"_Of course. But how do we take care of a baby bird?"_

"_We'll have to become it's parents. You the daddy and me the mommy. We'll find worms and feed it to him, and when he's big, we'll set him free."_

_He smiled at her and she at him. This tiny life was in their hands now and it depended on both of them for love and comfort._

Here he was now, standing up before the church with all anxious eyes upon him. It was his turn to speak over her, to say something of her that had meaning that was worthy of such a woman.

"There's so much I would like to say…to her. But now I can only speak _of_ Rachel." he swallowed. "Rachel Dawes meant a lot to me as a person. We've known each other for a very long time. She was a best friend to me growing up. Now, we have to…face tomorrow without the comfort of knowing Rachel is a part of our lives. There was a lot more to her than a respectable human being…she was a person and a very special woman. I was one of the lucky people who got to see a side of Rachel that was more than just a lawyer. She was a friend, the kind of friend who'd be there no matter what. She was someone you could trust with anything. I depended on her as a close friend, and she never let me down once. I'll always...keep my faith in her."

He paused, thinking of how he didn't make it. It wasn't her he found first but Harvey.

"We'll all miss Rachel. And I'm one of the many people who will miss her most."

He closed his speech and grieving hands clapped him off the small stage.

Now he was walking, slowly making way for the door of the church. He was greeted by many faces who knew him, who knew Rachel. They wanted to give support, show that they cared, give their respects. He seemed almost numb to everything, only giving a small smile and nodding when he felt compelled. The halls of the church felt like a twilight of emptiness, yet there were so many souls floating about in this place.

Then, he was stepping out of the grand cathedral doors, standing under a shelter and seeing the rain beating heavily against the pavement. Policemen were the wall that separated the rich Bruce Wayne from the countless reporters that longed to ask him for further comments on the death of Rachel Dawes and the mystery of Harvey Dent's missing body. But he slipped away from them and now Alfred was driving him back home. It was over. It was all said and done. She was gone and he needed to move on…at least in body if not in heart.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Author's Notes: _Thanks for the review Lindsay. Yes, the Joker is the main villain in this story. He will be introduced shortly, but I'll have to work extra hard to capture his character. I fixed something that spotsgiol pointed out to me...thanks! lol._


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